


Lazy Sunday

by Eighthofhearts



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Domestic, It's gonna be a sad one people, M/M, Panic Attacks, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eighthofhearts/pseuds/Eighthofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday was a day of peace, Alex and John had both fought hard to make sure this day was for them. They wanted a day where they could just be together and be who they truly are...</p>
<p>"Sunday was lazy, Sunday was free, Sunday was theirs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So, I actually originally wrote this story for a creative writing competition and made it lowkey Lams. Now that the contest is over, I'm allowed to post the work and I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Sundays were now a day of peace, a fact that Alex and John were slowly beginning to accept. Church processions had once filled John’s lazy Sundays; growing up a son of a pastor in the south was never fun for the young man. For Alex, Sunday meant work, but then again, so did every other day. Now that the pair had freedom from the confines of faith and poverty, they could breathe a little easier.

John still prayed. He still had some hope that his God would love him, despite what his father may have said. The God he knew loved all His creations, he just had to believe that. Praying came easier now that it was his choice.

Alex still went hungry. It wasn’t from a lack of food, but from years of eating only as far as his wallet could stretch. A few months wasn’t going to fix a lifetime of bad choices that were ultimately made for him.

But things were different now. John had Alex and Alex had John; they were an inseparable pair.

This was the eighteenth Sunday they had spent in bed together. They had made a promise to each other when they moved into their tiny apartment in East Harlem that Sunday was theirs. It had worked out perfectly well so far. John’s office closed shop every Friday night and Alex always made sure his school work was done well in advance. Sunday was lazy, Sunday was free, Sunday was theirs. 

Nestled in the crook of his lover’s arm, Alex felt safe, which was a rare feeling. He felt unsafe in his own mind, it had betrayed him often enough. But, in that very moment, hearing the beating of John’s heart and feeling the warmth of his skin was enough to ground him in a state of peace. If they didn’t move all day, Alex would be content. 

John blinked sleepily as his fingers tangled into Alex’s loose, soft hair. John was glad to see it out of the restraints of hair ties, he always joked to Alex that his ponytail being too tight was what was stressing him out. Now that he could just lay at peace and massage Alex’s scalp, he was happy. Simple pleasures, he told himself, were always the best. 

Alex was gentler on Sundays. He was fiery in his personal life, always being the life of the party and having something to say. He was passionate in his schooling, knowing that one day all his hard work would have meaning. But on Sundays, he was a different person. In front of John, his defenses were dropped, he was allowed to exist without being extraordinary. In this, he found peace.

John was sterner on Sundays. Something about the day caused a shift from his Type B personality to a textbook Type A. Despite it being a day of peace, John was always alert, knowing that Alex may rebel at any second. It was his job to keep his work worn lover in bed and at peace, and he took that job very seriously. Knowing that he had a job to do put him at ease, Alex was the best work he could ask for.

Alex began to stir around ten, a restless energy had built up in his body and needed to be released. John knew all he needed was a good stretch, and now was as good a time as any to get that out of the way.  

John shifted to sit up, slowly raising his upper body as to not disturb Alex too much. He stretched, releasing some of the tension that had built up from sleeping in a weird position the night before. John turned to get up but was stopped by clawed fingers grabbing at his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Alex’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes were wide and looked almost pained.

“I’m just going to make us some coffee,” John replied gently, carefully unraveling Alex’s fingers from his wrist, “I’ll be right back.”

Alex nodded, sitting up against the back wall as he watched his partner walk out of the room. Alex let out a heaving sigh that had resonated from deep within his chest, it came out in shuddered breaths, as if there was something stopping its flow. He grasped at the disheveled red linen sheets under him, gripping it as if his life depended on it.

John returned minutes later, however many, Alex couldn’t be too sure. In his hands he held two porcelain mugs with steam frothing from their tops. He kneeled on the bed and handed a mug to Alex, who had to release his grip from the sheets to accept it. Alex cupped the mug firmly between both hands, carefully taking his first sip. He looked up at John, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling. 

John clapped a hand down on Alex’s outstretched leg, the warmth from the coffee mug still retained in his palm and it tingled Alex’s skin. “You look like you could use a good stretch. Why don’t we go take a walk, maybe get some brunch at Oak’s?”

Alex looked up from his mug, his expression twisted as if he had tasted something bitter. “No,” he protested harshly, “It’s Sunday, we can’t do that.”

“I know it’s Sunday,” John spoke slowly, “But I just thought some fresh air might do us some good.”

“Can’t you just come back to bed,” Alex whined, dropping the mug between his legs suddenly, causing it to slosh violently, “I like it in bed.”

John’s features tightened and he let out a huff of air through his nose, “I’m surprised at you, Alex. Usually I can’t keep you in the house.”

“I know,” Alex responded, hiding behind his mug, “but it’s Sunday. We promised we’d stay in bed on Sunday. I promised you.” Alex’s knuckles turned white as his grip increased on the mug.

“Yeah, well it wouldn’t be the first time you broke a promise,” John joked, taking a sip of his coffee, half glancing at Alex. 

Alex’s breath caught in his chest at the statement. John choked as he saw Alex go instantly pale. 

“Alex, I didn’t mean…” John reached towards his partner, but Alex hissed and pulled away.

“Can you… can you just leave?”

“Alex…”

“Please,” Alex’s voice was a low growl, “just leave the room. I need a minute.”

John pursed his lips and swallowed hard, reluctantly agreeing to Alex’s demands. Alex needed to breathe. John wanted to comfort him, but if he needed to be alone, than so be it. John placed his coffee on the bed table and walked off towards the bathroom. He told himself that a shower would do him a world of good.

Alex sat alone in the empty room, trying to regulate his shattered breathing. His mind rushed, thoughts shooting around, all screaming to catch his attention. He clenched his eyes shut tight, a silent buzz was rattling his tense body. How could John say such a thing? He knew Alex was trying his best. That was the problem, Alex told himself, he was trying too hard. Sunday was supposed to be easy. Sunday was where he could be himself, let down the defense of bravado he played up just to be seen by others. No one cared about a penniless West Indian kid, they were a dime a dozen in New York. John cared, at least, that’s what he had thought. John was there through all his hardships; his struggle to make ends meet, his decision to go back to school, his mom dying… John was there through it all. John must have been tired of it all. Alex knew he was.

He wanted it to be spring again, specifically the spring they met. He wanted to see the love of his life the same way he saw him the first time he laid eyes on him. Sure, their first encounter may have been awkward, with Alex spilling his morning coffee all over John, but there was beauty in that moment. John somehow tried to apologize for the mishap, claiming he got in Alex’s way, but Alex could barely even pay attention to what the soft southern drawl was saying, he was too mystified by John’s presence to register his words. John offered to buy Alex another coffee just as Alex offered to pay to dry clean John’s coffee stained shirt. The pair locked eyes and both of their tense bodies seemed to relax simultaneously. 

“How about I buy you a drink instead?” Alex somehow managed to be smooth in his moment of slight panic. 

John agreed and the rest was history. 

Alex wished he could go back to that moment, where the words that rolled off his tongue seemed to entrance John. It was a time when John didn’t look constantly exhausted around Alex, it seemed to Alex that he was now just another tiring task to him. He just wanted to be loved, not taken care of like a chore. 

The thoughts that muddled Alex’s mind raced even faster, he pressed his fists against his head in some futile attempt to get them to stop. His breathing sharpened and quickened its pace, his body heaving with the movement of his chest. He let out a shuddered sigh, the sound wet with tears he was commanding himself to hold back. He needed to calm down. He needed John, but the paradox of his love and hate for John in that moment was sending his mind further into a frenzy. He just wanted it all to stop...

John stepped out of the shower, his body dripping and shuddering from the slight chill in the air. He quickly wrapped himself in a towel and cleared the fogged mirror with the heel of his hand. His curls were a tangled mess, but he couldn’t much care about his appearance in the moment. He was just hoping Alex was feeling better. He considered what he should do if for some reason his partner still ached, but John pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Alex would be okay, he told himself, he always ended up okay.

Still damp, John padded lightly over to the bedroom door. He leaned against it, hoping to hear what was going on, but heard nothing. He hoped, prayed, that this was for a good reason. He tapped on the wooden door with a knuckle, announcing himself before slowly entering the room.

When the door finally opened, John scanned the room and found that there was a missing element. The bed was still a mess, the coffees were still on the bed table, but where was Alex? 

“Alex,” John called, his voice a soft shout, “hun, are you in here?”

John stepped farther into the room, gasping in shock as he heard the door close behind him. He turned quickly, a horrible sight beholding him. Alex was sat on the floor behind the door, curled into a fetal position. John got to the floor and rushed to his partner’s side. He hesitated before finally touching him. Alex jumped at the clammy feeling of John’s hand on his back. The man was curled in an impossibly tight position, John had no idea how he was sitting in such a way. 

“Alex,” John said softly, trying to coax him into relaxing, “can you look at me? Please. I need you to…”

John stopped suddenly as Alex’s head whipped up from his knees, his eyes soaked with fallen tears, his face hidden behind a shudder of locks of his hair. His features were mangled from what looked like an hour’s worth of crying. Alex heaved for a moment before letting out a throaty sob, choked by the tears that still continued to fall. He suddenly sprung for John, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in his shoulder as he continued to cry. John was taken aback by the sudden embrace, but just accepted it.

“It’s not working,” Alex choked through his sobs.

John stroked Alex’s back, “What’s not working?”

“It’s not working!” Alex shouted, his voice raw and scratchy.

John rocked him gently, terrified, but not wanting it to show. He just wanted Alex to calm down.

“It’s not working, it’s not working, it’s not working...” Alex muttered over and over into John’s shoulder.

“Hun,” John began in a moment of silence, “tell me what’s not working. I wanna help you fix it.”

Alex sniffled, “We’re not working.”

John stopped breathing momentarily and let out a resigned sigh. 

“I know,” John said, his tone final, “I just wish I could fix it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on Tumblr @QueerEight


End file.
